


now you've got my attention

by allthewrongreasons



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Between Episodes, Drabble, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthewrongreasons/pseuds/allthewrongreasons
Summary: Sir Fitzroy struggles with the twin desires of bickering with and pining after Argo Keene. Argo does more than play along.(Just some Maplekeene I whipped up, and now feels like it might be going somewhere. I barely edited this so sorry if it's goofy! And I don't know if it will come up but Fitzroy is trans. Because I love that headcanon.)
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. On Talking Down to Your Sidekick, but Like, Affectionately

It was before they were supposed to leave for a short mission in town, taking care of some gerblins in a nasty cave or something. He can’t even remember who started it, or how it started. Well, okay, he started it, if you want to get specific. All he asked was for Argo to fetch his boots or his cloak or something. Was that so wrong?

“Fitz, you can be a real shit sometimes. Ya like names? How about Fitz the Shit. Yeah! How about THAT!” Argo folded his arms across his chest.

The Firbolg gave a low chuckle from the hallway. He’d been ready to go for a while but was still entertained by his bickering roommates.

“How DARE you. As you well know, my full - and I might add, well-earned - title is SIR Fitzroy-”

Argo cut in with, “Fitzshit Maplebuns of the Realm of Stinkcastle-”

“Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia to the Realm of Goodcastle! That wasn’t even the right format of- ugh, I don’t know why I even try with you!” Fitzroy sighed with as much drama as possible, tossing his head into his hands.

“You see now...having name can prove...troublesome,” the Firbolg added, clearly very amused with himself. “Easier to...not be called by a name. Yes?”

“Now don’t you start!” yelped the half-elf, who was by this point standing, hands on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently and eyeing Argo. And maybe he took an extra second for the eyeing. 

The Firbolg cleared his throat. “Are ve...leaving?”

“Not until Argo apologizes!”

“For what?!”

“You hurt my feelings!” Fitzroy announced. Okay, maybe he was being a tiny bit absurd. It was just so easy to get into it with Argo, like they’d known each other for years.

Argo looked like he couldn’t decide whether to slap Fitzroy or pull him in for a hug. Either of those would be a first. Instead, he settled for the old blame-taking trick. “You’re right, you’re right. I shan't have called ya such a mean name. It’s just me upbringing on the seas that gives me such a natural tendency…”

“...To be so profane. And to your boss!”

Fitzroy could have sworn he could hear Argo’s eyes rolling that time.

Soon the two realized the Firbolg had begun to make his way out of the building and they’d better follow. The rest of the outing was fine, as far as Fitzroy remembers.

Rather than rehashing his performance in combat or the strategy of the mission, the conversations he had with Argo were what rattled around in his head as he tried to settle down for the night. Even conversations as seemingly banal as this.

Perhaps it was because, for the first time, Fitzroy had captured someone’s attention for a reason other than his wild magic. Sure, he was used to the mortifying ordeal of unleashing a spell much more powerful and dangerous than the one he intended to cast, and he was used to pushing people away, or being avoided to begin with.

But...here, with the Firbolg and with Argo, he’d found himself in at least a half-good situation. His friends - yes, they were sidekicks, but even Fitzroy was aware that he’d made friends - were sticking with him. Fighting alongside him.

The wonderful privilege of bickering with a friend. He’ll never get over it. Of course, he is immensely grateful for Rainer’s willingness to take the three of them under her social wing, for party invitations and breakfasts together. Seeing her face never fails to brighten Fitzroy’s day, but there was something about getting up in this morning and bumping into Argo getting dressed that made his heart pound in the most confusing way, something about watching Argo fight that threatened to break his concentration, something about Argo sneaking around that both worried and intrigued him.

This school carried so many mysteries and new experiences, Fitzroy often found it difficult to fall into his sleep trance. Maybe it had just been a while since he’d had anyone around this long. Maybe this is just what having friends is like. Constantly turning them over in your mind and replaying their words to you...


	2. Sea Shanty Karaoke & Other Surefire Ways to Annoy Your Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one, boys! I just let this idea take me where it wanted. Sorry. This isn't supposed to be Rainer's birthday party, just an end-of-semester party. Oh and they get drunk in this one, but it's all chill. 
> 
> (Shoutout to Bombarded also, I borrowed some bards.)

Honestly, he’d been waiting for this party for weeks. School was no joke, especially as a sidekick. Everyone had to take accounting, but the tests really only mattered for the sidekicks, and while Argo had been studying with the Firbolg, it still didn’t come naturally to him. He excelled in blame-taking and sneakery, but he was more than ready to be done with classes for a few weeks, and to kick off that free time with a good old rager with his best friends.

The test tavern was set up with floating lanterns and some of the tables had been moved to create a sort of stage and dance floor, with some bards setting up their instruments and early party attendees grabbing their first drinks. Fitzroy marched up to the bar and ordered something complicated, as well as a rum with lemon for Argo and an appletini for the Firbolg, who only seemed to drink things with identifiable fruits in the name. Rainer showed up not long after that with Buckminster following behind.

“Hello, Fitzroy! Hi, Argo! Pleased to see you again, Master Firbolg!”

“Hello, Rainer! Are you ready to party?” Fitzroy called, as though to be heard over loud music, though the bards were only just tuning up.

“You know it! Oh, wait-” and Rainer turned a dial on the arm of her chair. After a moment, the soft, glowing light from beneath her chair began to change to red, then to blue, then to green. “Yes, now I’m ready to party.”

“That is radical. So, Rainer, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done at a school party?” 

They chatted like this for a while as more students showed up and the bards, a hero and her sidekicks, blasted some tunes. Occasionally, another student would approach the trio and request a song and get up on the makeshift stage to sing along. Pip and Dip hopped up and sang a goofy duet celebrating their successful semester. A hero Argo had only seen in passing drunkenly dedicated a song to their sidekick and a pair of henches who couldn’t stop giggling requested an overly romantic song to embarrass their hero. 

He elbowed his companions. “Aye, Fitz! Were the parties at Clyde Nite’s anywhere near this fun? I’ve never seen a knight get wasted before!”

Fitzroy, who held one colorful drink in each hand and whose cape was now sitting a bit off-kilter, scoffed. “They were altogether spectacular! There were grand, enormous balls-”

Argo snorted into his drink and even the Firbolg cracked a smile. 

“Oh, don’t be so childish. There was dancing and fine dining and everyone was dressed stupendously. There weren’t nearly as many...ragamuffins,” he said, peering at a tiefling and their werebear companion, who were taking turns casting silly illusions on each other to present extra horns or eyes to amuse a small group of onlookers.

“What’s stoppin’ ya from dancin’ here? Or how about you, friend Firbolg? Who wants to dance with me?”

The Firbolg set down his empty glass and grunted in the affirmative, easing his way to the dance floor. “It is good to celebrate. De dance is de...custom in dis school, yes? For a...good semester, ah?” And he looked around at other students moving to the music, then began to step from side to side with a loose rhythm. Argo let out a whoop of a laugh, taking one of Fitzroy’s drinks, then grabbing his now free hand to pull him along to the dance floor.

“Oh, Argo, I don’t know if I’m, er, well-suited for this particular realm of dance-”

“Bullshit!” Argo pulled his long hair free from its ponytail and let it flow like water behind him as he spun around in perfect time. “Just feel it!”

But he could tell his newly-ordained villain was still nervous about the prospect. He tried a different approach. The bards were winding down a song, and now that they had moved closer to the performers, Argo was able to slip between the few people between them and speak to the guitarist. 

“Do yeh got any sea shanties? I would just love ta get up there and do a sea shanty. Ya know, in honor of my friend Fitz.”

“Uh...I mean, I guess. Yashee? Do you know any, um, sea shanties?”

The orcish drummer wiped the sweat off her forehead and thought for a moment, while the keyboardist chimed in saying that he’d just learned a shanty, actually, on spring break. “I gotta warn you, it’s a pretty nasty one. The sailors taught me the most 'romantic' shanty they knew because I let it slip that I’m single.”

“Aw, Raz’ul. You’ll find someone.”

“Um. Thanks, Yashee. Anyway, yeah, you know this one?” And he started pounding out a dance-pop rendition of an old shanty Argo remembered from his teenage years. 

“That’s perfect! Hey!” He turned to the party-goers. “I’m Argo Keene and this one goes out to my dear friend and villain, Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt!”

From the stage, Argo could see a lantern float over to Fitzroy’s head, bathing him in a pink light. The half-elf’s eyes went wide and he could see him try to turn to get out of the crowd, but Rainer put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said something that seemed to make Fitzroy relax even as Argo launched into the first verse of the song, changing some of the lyrics on the fly so that, even if someone had missed his introduction, it was clear who this song was for.

“Oh no. Oh heavens. What does he think he’s doing!” 

“Fitz, silly, he’s trying to get you to enjoy the party! Argo’s trying to be a good friend. And this is amazing. I don’t know if anyone’s ever done a shanty at one of these!”

Indeed, some of the people in the crowd even started singing along. Argo may have been making a grand fool of himself, but he did seem to be entertaining at least. Fitzroy gulped down the rest of his drink and shook his head slightly. He didn’t understand why Argo had to sing to him. He would have danced eventually. He caught Argo’s eye as he finished another verse, this one about the lengths the singer would go to reach his love, his love, the beautiful Fitzroy. 

“He is being ridiculous, Rainer, you must agree with me on that, at least,” he said in her ear. 

She cracked a smile and waited until the verse ended to call back, “He’s not wrong about your beauty.”

“Oh, Rainer! Stop!” He was smiling now. “I’ll admit, it’s not an inaccurate tale, but I’m not sure it’s quite appropriate for our working relationship…”

Someone had edged Argo out and the song transitioned into a different ballad for a different hero or villain. All fair, as Argo had reached the end of his knowledge of the words to the song. He went from the stage back to the bar, and Rainer took the opportunity to lean in to Fitzroy. 

“How is your relationship with Argo?”

What was that devious sparkle in Rainer’s eye? 

“Uh, I mean, we’re friends...he is my sidekick, of course, but we’re, you know, getting along swimmingly…” But he shifted so he could make sure Argo took long enough getting those drinks.

“Mmm...sure, sure…”

“I’m not confident I know what you’re implying, Rainer,” Fitzroy laughed it off, tossing his hair as if tossing the idea of his and Argo’s relationship to the back of his mind. At that moment, the rogue in question was back with a round for them all. 

“Whatcha think, Fitz? That was an old classic from my days on the sea!” 

“Not exactly my thing, but as Rainer was saying, a kind gesture, I suppose.”

Argo winked and threw an arm around the half-elf, his hand coming to rest at Fitzroy's waist. “I’ll take it!” He began to sway to the music once again.”Here, try dancin’ with me! Ya don’t have to do it alone.”

Admittedly, the drink had loosened Fitzroy up enough to lean back against his friend. He followed Argo as he pulled him gently in a circle, then from side to side, at one point nearly losing his balance and throwing an arm around Argo’s neck to steady himself. 

“Whoa, careful there, Fitz!” The two stumbled out of the path of another pair who were dancing their way through the crowd. 

“Oh dear, you must excuse me,” Fitzroy stammered, pulling slightly away from his friend for a moment before Argo caught one of his hands. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Argo countered, then drew Fitzroy closer so they were chest to chest for a moment as the song came to a finish. Neither moved at first; Argo held Fitzroy tight, worried he might not be so steady on his feet, Fitzroy at the mercy of his pounding heart and weak knees. 

The new rhythm of the next song broke the spell. Fitzroy made an indecipherable face - was it fear? Or realization? - then excused himself to get some air outside the tavern. Argo stood, now alone in the middle of the dance floor, staring at the door, half a smile on his face. He caught his breath and wondered for a moment if he was pushing Fitz a little hard. But, no, he was just making sure his friend was having fun. Rainer caught up with him and praised his performance as she brought him to the table where she’d settled in with Buckminster and a couple new friends.

Fitzroy pushed the door open and found the Firbolg lying on his back in the grass across the way.

He headed over to his large friend, but stayed standing so as not to dirty his party clothes by sitting on the ground. “Oh. Hey, bud. Get a little intense in there for you?”

Without moving, he replied, “You may think...that de sailor vould have de practice...to sound better. Than that. And...I wanted to be vith de trees.”

Fitzroy chuckled. “Firbolg! I didn’t think it was quite so awful. Though, my goodness, he didn’t need to change the lyrics like that. I may need to have a chat with him about professionalism.”

“Professionalism is a core tenet of a respectable small business,” the Firbolg added, approvingly.

“Yes, of course.” 

The two were quiet for a moment, then Fitzroy piped back up. “Although, Firbolg, I fear I may have gone a bit overboard on the whole Thundermen, LLC thing. Yes, I’m a villain now, and boy, that is taking some getting used to, but we’re still friends, you know that?”

“Friends,” the Firbolg echoed, smiling up at the stars. “Yes.”

“So it’s fine to dance with my friends, and it’s not weird that they’re my sidekicks or whatever?”

“Dis is a strange question.”

Despite the cool night air, Fitzroy felt his face go hot. “Um, did you see us just then? Argo sort of, danced with me, and…”

“He held you, like lover? Like de song? De...ter-r-r-rible song?”

This was what Fitzroy was afraid of. He hadn’t exactly felt in control back there, getting swept up in the music and the drink and his friend’s arms, and he was worried about how that might look. Were people talking about him? “Uh...I suppose. A little like in his song, yes. Okay, well, thank you. For this chat. Are you good out here?”

The Firbolg only laughed as though the notion of him being anything but utterly comfortable lying on the ground and gazing at the night sky was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

They stayed at the party for a few more hours, participating in games with Rainer and her friends, ranting and raving about their professors, making perhaps irreverent jokes about Hieronymus. By now, they were gathered in a lounge area with plump chairs and bowls of snacks. Fitzroy silently thanked whatever gods were listening for the excuse not to have to dance, but he couldn’t bring himself to relax while sharing a couch with Argo. He kept to himself, at least physically, with one leg crossed over the other and elbows tucked close to his sides. Argo was sprawled out with an arm over the back of the loveseat. His hair was still loose, swishing and he bopped his head to the music, and his shirt had somehow unbuttoned itself nearly to the navel. 

As Fitzroy returned from the gentlemen’s room, as he put it, he marched up to Argo, who had taken the opportunity to spread himself over the couch they had been sharing.

“Oh! Look at this! He’s stolen my spot! Like the thief he is!” Fitzroy pointed accusingly at the offending Argo. His voice tipped into even greater extremes than usual as a result of the night of drinks, and the audience.

“Aye, yer gonna have to convince me to give it up!” Argo shot back.

Fitzroy allowed himself a jaw-drop. “Convince you? I should think not! You’re my sidekick, which means if I want to sit, then you...you have to sit next to me!” 

Well, that didn’t come out exactly how he meant. No matter. It worked.

Amused, Argo made a great show of climbing off the couch and bowing a deep, sarcastic bow to his villain. “Anything for you, Sirrr Fitzroy…” As he started to rise back to his full height he was halted by a hand atop his head. He glanced up to see Fitzroy looking down at him, one arm outstretched, holding Argo in his position of deference.

Fitzroy swallowed. Nervously. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Ah...yer not gonna Shocking Grasp me, are ya, Fitz?”

He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, moving his hand from the top of Argo’s head to his collar and pulled him back upright. “Anything?”

“Er…”

He tried again. “You said you would do anything for me. Right, Argo?”

“Well, as CCO of Thundermen, LLC., and your faithful side-”

“Argo, shut up.”

“Yes...sir?”

Oh no. There was something about Argo’s voice when he wasn’t being funny about calling him ‘Sir.’ He unconsciously held tight to the genasi’s collar. He barely noticed Zana and Rainer whispering to each other, eyes locked on the boys. 

“I said sit next to me,” Fitzroy crooned after a moment of deliberation. He kept eye contact with Argo as he pushed him gently aside and took his rightful place on the couch. Argo just stared at Fitzroy, just for a second, before coming to his senses and sheepishly settling back in next to his roommate. 

They stumbled back to their room, or rooms rather, once the crowd cleared out of the tavern and even Festo had gone home. Or wherever it is fairies go, perhaps to another party. 

“Careful, Fitz!” Argo had been holding him up on their way into the room, but Fitzroy had almost bumped his head on the door frame anyway. 

“I’m FINE, Argo, thank you.” They’d reached his bed. Fitzroy steadied himself against the side table. “Although I would appreciate it if you’d cloak my cloak. I mean take my cloak. Off.”

Argo suppressed a giggle. It’s not like Fitzroy was a lightweight or messy or any of that, he was just a little silly at this hour, and they had just spent several hours together, seemingly for the first time in a while. “Yes, Sir Fitzroy.”

He reached around Fitzroy’s shoulders and began to remove the gaudy brooch pinning the cloak at his shoulder. He managed to set it on the table, but only just before Fitz turned to face him and somehow wrapped the cloak around them both in the process, losing his balance and falling backward into his bed and taking Argo with him.

“Oh-”

“Oof!”

They both managed not to hit their heads on the bed or each other, but Argo was now lying across Fitzroy’s chest. He shifted until his arms were free enough to prop himself up and give Fitzroy an incredulous look.

“Oops.” Fitzroy was grinning, which made Argo crack up.

“Ya sure ya didn’t drink too much tonight?”

Fitzroy nodded, making his hair tickle Argo’s chin. “I’m sure. I know my limits.”

“Ha!”

“Hey!”

Just then, a large, greyish head poked into the room. “Please. It is late in de night. ”

Argo glanced at Fitzroy, whose eyes flicked from the Firbolg back to Argo, and they both collapsed into giggles again. 

The Firbolg turned to leave, but looked at the two in Fitzroy’s bed again. “Argo. Vill you...sleep here tonight?”

Before Argo could answer, Fitzroy interjected, “Of course not! This is my room! Get out of my bed, Argo!” He attempted to shove Argo off of him, but only managed to roll them both over so he was now pressed against his friend. In his bed. Wrapped in his favorite cloak. 

“Hm.”

Argo’s heart was pounding. He called after the Firbolg, “Ah, don’t worry, big guy! I’ll be there in a minute…”

“Goodnight, Bud!” Fitz stage whispered. Then to Argo, “I mean it, get out of my bed.”

“I dunno, Fitz, seems like maybe you don’t want me to leave you alone tonight…”

He was still faintly smiling, but something else had crossed Fitzroy’s face again. “What’s that supposed to mean? No, wait. Don’t answer that. This is ridiculous.” After some less-than-graceful rolling around, he freed the cloak and draped it over a bedpost. 

Argo sensed the moment was up and slowly hoisted himself up and out of the bed. “Okay...if you’re sure…”

“Goodnight, Argo. Close the door on your way out.”

He shut off the lamp on the table. “Last chance.”

“Goodnight, Argo!”

“‘Night, Fitz.”

“Sleep tight.”

“Uh, you too.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Did he always have to have the last word? “...Are ya sure ya don’t-”

“YES! Goodnight!”


	3. Cussin' 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quickie. Fitzroy has swearing practice with Argo!

“We need to teach ya how to swear.”

“I’m working on it!” 

“Ya sound ridiculous! We can’t have our head Thunderman sounding like he’s never said ‘fuck’ before.” Now that several people they’d encountered around campus had actually commented on how ineffective Fitzroy’s unpracticed cursing was, Argo decided it was time he actually trained his villain in the art of obscenity. So here they were, during an hour they both had free, a few feet away but facing each other as though about to duel, in the empty middle of their common room. They’d moved the couch against the wall, just in case they needed some extra space.

Fitzroy huffed. “Well, I don’t see how you’re going to teach me.”

“Ya just have to practice! Hey, it’s like learning a language. Just...pretend you’re really, really mad and lay one on me!”

“Oh, but it won’t feel natural. I don’t know about this.”

“Do ya wanna sound badass or not?”

“Well, yes-”

“I said, do ya want to sound like a fucking badass?!”

Fitz held his breath for a second, then let it out with a grimace. “Ooh, you almost got me with that one.”

“Hoo buoy, this is gonna be tough.” Argo rolled up his sleeves, as though he was about to get his hands as dirty as his mouth. 

“Wait, I have it,” Fitzroy pointed at Argo’s exposed forearm. “That fresh ink of yours is cool as hell. ...How was that?”

“All right!”

“Ugh, Argo, it still feels bad.”

“It’s just new. You’ll get used to it. Try another.”

“Hmm...that Rolandus is a real  _ bastard _ . And his name isn’t even that much better than mine.”

“Ya mean  _ Rolandus Fontaine _ ?” Argo said, taking his time with the syllables. 

“Ooh, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. You’ve  _ never  _ said my name with that much...gravitas. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you say my full name!” There he goes. Hands on his hips again. 

“How about...I’ll say it if ya give me a real good cuss. Go on.”

It didn’t look like he was going to do it. Argo expected him to throw his hands up and start calling him names, but Fitz’s new brand of sparring took over. “Fine. Sure. Argo,” he took a breath, “I want you to say my fucking name.”

Well, shit. Argo raised his eyebrows. “Not bad, fancy lad.”

“Okay, I did a good one, right? So are you going to say it? Are you going to fucking say my name? The whole damn thing?” Fitz was really getting into this.  _ Good. _

Two can play this game. And do, apparently every time they speak to each other. “Yeah, I’ll say it. Because I just heard  _ Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt _ do a good swear!”

“Ahem. My  _ full _ title, if you please. I did two good swears, actually,” Fitz smirked.

Argo brought his face close to Fitzroy’s, nearly nose to nose, so he could really enjoy it. “I can’t believe I get to be the sidekick of the one and only Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia to the Realm of Goodcastle.”

“Okay, it’s not a spelling bee, you don’t have to use it in a sentence.” 

Now Fitz was blushing a little. Something seized the energy in the room for a moment, and they just looked at each other, still only a step or two away. Argo raised his eyebrows. Fitzroy did the same, with a nervous sort of flick of his eyes to the door, then back at Argo. “W..what? So am I good? Are we done?”

Argo gave Fitz’s shoulder a playful shove. “Yeah, but don’t forget to practice.”

“As long as I can practice on you,” Fitz shot back. Just like that, Argo felt his face go hot. 

“Uh, yeah-”

“Unless you’re going to be shitty about it.”

He scoffed, softly, and Fitz cracked a smile. “Sure, anytime. Yer gonna need the practice.”


End file.
